


And Baby Makes... Four?

by kesdax



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/pseuds/kesdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw wants to know how the hell this happened, Jeremy would like it to happen again and Root just wants to pretend it never happened at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The only realistic (sort of) way I can see Root and Shaw having a baby. Sequel to that one and only Lamoot fic I wrote but you don't have to read it to get what's going on here.  
> This is for Bee who's been wanting tine fic for ages. I think a lot of these ideas are actually hers.

The frequency and eating patterns of other people wasn’t something Sameen Shaw paid particular attention to. But after several days in a row of being short a few pizza slices, of the leftovers disappearing in the middle of the night, of the outright audacity of her food being removed from her plate right under her nose… well, Shaw started to pay attention.

And Root, who before only ever nibbled at her small plate of food and took absolutely _forever_ to finish a meal, was now wolfing down enough food to feed a small army. By Sameen Shaw’s reckoning, _she_ was small, _she_ could take out a small army by herself and she was slowly starting to resent the fact that she was always hungry because _somebody_ didn’t bother to restock the groceries after eating everything - and Shaw meant _everything;_ including the dodgy jar of peanut butter that had to have been sitting in the back of her cupboard for well over a year.

But it wasn’t the disappearing food - despite how annoying that was - that started tingling Shaw’s spidey senses.

Peeing habits, not even her own, were _definitely_ something she never paid attention to. But when a mission for the Machine required a three hour road trip to Baltimore and Root kept asking to stop at regular intervals so she could pee, Shaw got increasingly more annoyed. (It didn’t help that Root had eaten all her snacks fifteen minutes into the trip).

“Did you have ten cups of coffee or something before we left?” Shaw asked after the eighth time they stopped. Root just grinned in that annoying way of hers and climbed out of the car. And, as Root finally returned, bringing with her a pile of snacks from the gas station they had stopped at, any suspicions Shaw may have had quickly disappeared. Her annoyance soon left too as she munched on a Snickers and pretended she couldn’t hear the country western tune Root was humming under her breath as they drove in relative silence.

It was later, after they had dealt with their relevant number and had booked a motel room for the night, that Shaw started to get really suspicious and put the pieces - no matter how impossible the outcome seemed - together.

“See, aren’t you glad I insisted on a double?” Root muttered as she nibbled at Shaw’s neck, one hand down the front of Shaw’s pants. Yes, okay she had wanted single rooms; they were working after all. But, right now, she would agree to anything Root said.

“Are you planning on talking all night?” Shaw grumbled, scowling when Root’s hand slipped away so she could more easily manoeuvre herself to straddle Shaw’s waist.

“Only if you want me to,” said Root with a wink.

Shaw rolled her eyes. No she didn’t want Root to keep talking, no matter how sordid her mouth could be. Shaw would rather she put it to a more exciting use, one that left her with no room to talk, and kissed her before she could get started on describing just how, exactly, she was going to make Shaw come. In this case, actions were most definitely better than words.

She kissed Root hard and hungrily, not caring how eager and desperate she looked. It had been far too long since they had been together like this. What with one thing after another; Shaw’s capture by Samaritan and their still endless war, there hadn’t been time.

Maybe she should have took the time to explore Root again, but Shaw just wanted Root inside her. If they won the war, there would be time for explorations later. But, with her hands on Root’s breasts, feeling taut and swollen nipples, Shaw paused, frowned and stared at them.

“Thought you were more of an ass girl,” said Root and tried to kiss Shaw. But Shaw pulled away, examining Root’s breasts, feeling them beneath her hands. They didn’t feel… _right._

“Did you get a boob job while I was gone?”

“No,” said Root and grabbed Shaw’s wrists so she could push her back down onto the bed.

“I swear they’ve gotten bigger,” Shaw insisted.

“Must be your imagination.” Root kissed her neck, but it wasn’t enough to distract Shaw from her questioning thoughts.

“Well it’s not like there was much there to begin with,” Shaw muttered and let out a gasp when Root bit her neck hard in retaliation.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Root promised, slowly moving her way down Shaw’s body.

“Good,” said Shaw and promptly forgot all about her suspicions.

In the morning, she remembered.

She woke up cold and alone in bed to the sounds of Root throwing up in the bathroom. Silently, Shaw pulled on her clothes. The bathroom was tiny and she knew the door would only hit Root if she tried to open it, especially if she was on her knees, chucking up her guts.

So Shaw stood just outside, listening through the slightly ajar doorway, letting her mind put all the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle and coming to only one logical conclusion (to Shaw’s medical mind anyway. The rest of her was screaming that it was impossible).

And when Root finally came out of the bathroom, taking a step back in surprise when she found Shaw waiting for her with her arms folded and a frown on her face, Shaw decided there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Are you pregnant?”

Root stared at her for a moment, laughed and then quickly turned serious when she realised Shaw wasn’t joking.

“Because all the signs are there,” Shaw continued. “So I’m asking you… Is there a chance you could be pregnant?”

Shaw knew what answer she was expecting from Root. A firm, big fat No. Because Root had never been with a man in her life. She didn’t care that she had made assumptions, that she would be proved wrong. She would take the blow because the alternative… Shaw didn’t want to even think about it. But Root didn’t answer right away. The look on her face became all the more terrified and Shaw thought that, somewhere, hell must have frozen over, she had slipped into a parallel universe… Something. Anything. Not this.

“Root-”

“Yes,” said Root, turning pale and moving away from Shaw to sit on the bed. She stared at her hands and Shaw stared at her uncomprehendingly. How? When? _Why?_ And who the fuck? Shaw wanted to ask these questions all at once, but instead settled for one.

“How long have you known?”

Root shrugged. “A few weeks. I was kinda hoping it would just… go away.”

Shaw snorted. “It’s a baby, Root. It doesn’t just go away.”

“A baby,” said Root, dazed.

Shaw moved to join her on the bed and they sat there, silent for several moments while Shaw wondered how the hell this had happened. She knew she was out of the loop for a lot of things since her nine long months in Samaritan's hands. But, out of everything, _this_ was the one thing she couldn’t get her head around.

“Who…” Shaw began and shook her head. Then an image formed in her mind, worsening when Root didn’t answer her. “Did someone… were you…”

“No,” said Root quickly. “It was consensual.”

At that, Shaw shivered and felt an unmistakable spark of jealousy at whoever this guy was that had touched Root. She wanted to smash her fists in his face, consensual or not.

“Who?” Shaw asked again. “Please tell me it’s not Finch.” At that thought - and the image her mind so generously brought up - Shaw felt sick.

Root’s face scrunched up in disgust. “God, no.”

“Reese? Fusco? That guy from the pizza place? I guess he is kinda hot.”

“Sameen,” said Root calmly.

“Well, is it someone I know?”

Root hesitated and once again Shaw’s imagination went wild. Then she saw the corners of Root’s mouth curl up in a smirk.

“Must be your badassery that knocked me up,” Root joked, but it fell flat against Shaw’s scowl and she quickly cleared the smile from her face. She sighed, realising Shaw wasn’t about to let this go. “It’s Jeremy. He’s the father.”

“Who the hell is - wait. You mean _Lambert_?” Root nodded and Shaw’s hands curled into fists. “I’ll kill him.”

“Why?” said Root. She was smiling slightly and, for a moment, Shaw thought she was mocking her.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” said Root. “I already told you it was consensual.”

Shaw snorted humourlessly. “You and Samaritan’s head boy? Consensual? Why were you even anywhere near him?”

“Because,” said Root and went silent once again. She stood up, kept her back to Shaw and Shaw knew, if she could, that Root would avoid answering this question forever.

“Root,” said Shaw. “Just tell me what happened. You owe me that much at least.”

“Why? You want all the sordid details? You want to hear all about how hard I fucked him all night long? How good it felt?”

“Root…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” said Shaw. It was only then she realised how shaken Root was, how tired she was of trying to hide this. And Shaw could hardly blame her. A baby… Fucking hell. “Lambert’s dangerous. He could have killed you. Why would you…”

“He had information I needed,” said Root. But Shaw couldn’t understand what was so important that Root would… She didn’t think that Root would stoop so low, no matter what the Machine asked of her.

Except… the math didn’t add up. Root couldn’t be more than a few months pregnant. And, back then, the Machine had been out of commission, for the most part anyway. Which meant this had all been Root’s idea. And there was only one reason why Root would be willing to sleep with the enemy…

“You did this because of me,” Shaw said suddenly. “Didn’t you?”

Root nodded and finally turned around to face her. “I needed his laptop. I knew there would be something on there that would lead me to you.”

“What if there hadn’t been?”

Root shrugged. “I had to try.”

Had to try…

And now look at this mess. All because of Shaw, because she had refused to do what she was told that day and went to the stock exchange anyway. It didn’t matter that Root would likely be dead by now if she hadn’t, Shaw still felt partially responsible for Root’s current predicament, like she had been the one to impregnate Root herself. And Shaw, even now in the midst of war, was never the type of person to back away from her responsibilities.

“What are you going to do?” Shaw asked, deciding there and then that she would support Root in whatever decision that she made.

Shrugging, Root said, “Can you imagine me as a mom?”

No, Shaw couldn’t. But, then again, people changed, surprised you. Shaw would never have thought she would find herself with a group of close friends who were more than just her teammates. Nor did she think that she would ever be in a relationship with someone, let alone with _Root_. Yet here she was, no matter how many times she told herself or Root that it was just convenient sex, it was more than that and they both knew it.

“Jeremy wants to keep it,” said Root.

“Lambert knows?”

Root nodded. “I have him holed up in a safe house in Brooklyn.” Something in her face must have gave away what Shaw was thinking because a second later Root rolled her eyes. “I’m not keeping him as a sex slave, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Shaw scowled.

“Trust me,” Root added. “Once was way more than enough.”

But even that was way more information than Shaw needed to hear.

“Then why?”

“I thought I could use this,” she gestured at her still flat but not for long belly, “to make him turn on Samaritan.”

“And has it worked?” Shaw asked.

“No,” Root admitted. “He’s too scared. He thinks Samaritan is going to kill him.”

“I’ll kill him,” said Shaw, still not entirely convinced that Root hadn’t been coerced in some way. But not even she could deny that part of it was just jealousy, that she wanted to smash his face in on principle alone. Some of it would be payback too, for her time as Samaritan’s captive.

Oh, she was looking forward to this…

*

It took some long, hard persuasion, but eventually Shaw convinced Root to tell her where she had stashed Lambert away. And when she had finally told her, Root insisted on coming too. Whether to protect Jeremy or just enjoy the show, Shaw had no idea.

Now that the baby was out of the bag and Shaw knew everything, Root was a lot more open. She didn’t have to hide the morning sickness, the weird eating habits and now she got full reign of the bathroom considering she had to pee so much.

And she complained. About everything. The soreness of her boobs, the strain on her back, her swollen ankles… Shaw did everything she could to make her comfortable - going so far as to rub the tension out of Root’s feet - but she rolled her eyes through most of it, dreading what Root was going to be like through the later parts of her pregnancy. She assumed there was going to be a later part, anyway. Root hadn’t once mentioned getting rid of it. In fact, apart from the near constant complaints, Root barely mentioned the pregnancy. And whenever Shaw brought it up, she quickly changed the subject, like it was just some mild inconvenience Root would eventually get over.

It was concerning, to say the least. This wasn’t exactly something that Root could ignore forever. In about five month’s time there would be a tiny human needing care and attention, needing a _mother_ and Shaw got the feeling that the responsibility hadn’t quite sunk in yet for Root.

But Shaw kept her mouth shut. For now. She wasn’t even entirely sure it was her place to comment, to get involved. It wasn’t her baby, after all. Despite the fact its conception was partly down to her and she may have felt responsible for it, that didn’t necessarily mean Root felt the same way.

So when they went to the safe house, Shaw was determined to find _someone_ who took this responsibility seriously. But what she ended up finding left Shaw unimpressed, even more concerned about the fate of this baby than ever and, quite frankly, left her questioning Root’s sanity.

The safe house’s security was impressive. Deadbolt lock, keypad with a six digit pin and a door made from reinforced steel. No one was getting in. And no one was getting out either. Shame it was all wasted on Jeremy Lambert. Who, at the sound of Root unlocking the door, went into panic mode.

There was a clatter from within the house and before Root could fully open the door, Shaw had her gun out.

It was a good thing Shaw was so short, the cricket bat Jeremy swung at her narrowly missed the top of her head. He didn’t have enough reflexes to swing it again before Shaw snatched onto the end of it and pulled it from his grip.

“Watch it,” she snapped, less concerned for herself and more for the fact that he could have hit Root if she had went in first. And not only Root… there was the baby too.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?” said Jeremy. She supposed he meant to sound threatening but he just sounded pathetic and whiny. He still had that look of fear in his eyes and, coupled with the scraggly beard and bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, he looked quite maniacal.

 _This_ was what Root had fucked that night months before. This mess. If Shaw had been in her shoes, she would bypassed Jeremy and went straight to Martine. Jeremy may have been stupider, but at least Martine cleaned up better.

“Just came here to congratulate you on your impending fatherhood,” said Shaw, examining the cricket bat now in her hands. It had signatures in black scrawled all over it. “This worth something?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy and snatched it back out of her hands. “It’s signed by each member of the England team and this was the very bat they played with when-”

“I don’t care,” said Shaw.

Jeremy glowered petulantly for a moment before turning to Root. “You told her?”

Root shrugged. “She guessed. You got any food around here?” And before Jeremy could start whining again, she disappeared off through the house.

“We were supposed to be keeping it a secret,” said Jeremy. “In case-”

“Your boss finds out and kills you?” said Shaw with a grin. Jeremy paled visibly. “Isn’t it a little late for that considering you ran away?”

“I didn’t run away!” Jeremy snapped. “I’m a prisoner. She won’t tell me the code to the door and all the windows are sealed shut.”

 _That_ Root had neglected to mention.

“Quit whining,” said Shaw. “ _Your_ side didn’t exactly put me up in nice digs like this.” She walked through the house towards the living room. Examining the stylish decor and ignoring the mess that must have been caused by Jeremy.

Coughing sheepishly, Jeremy followed her. “Right… well… Sorry about that.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Typical British response. Or guy response. Shame he hadn’t shown her the same courtesy during her captivity.

“Whatever,” Shaw muttered. She was about to launch into her “What are your intentions?” speech in an attempt to get something useful about Samaritan out of him. She was also willing to use her fists if necessary. But before she could open her mouth, Root returned, whining about the lack of food and munching on some potato chips.

“Hey,” Jeremy called and snatched the bag from her hands. “That’s my dinner.”

“You’re having potato chips for dinner?” Shaw said judgementally.

Jeremy shrugged, hugging the half eaten bag to his chest like he was cradling a small, precious animal.

“I can’t leave the house. And _she_ hasn’t brought me any food in weeks. So I’ve had to ration what I had left.”

Both Shaw and Jeremy turned to Root.

“What?” said Root and shrugged. “I forgot.”

“Oh wow,” said Jeremy snappishly. “That’s great. The father of your unborn child and you forgot.”

Root pulled a disgusted face and Shaw decided she would rather not know what image that had brought to mind. But hearing Jeremy say it out loud, that he was the father, finally made it seem real to Shaw.

And suddenly that jealousy was back and a second later Shaw found herself pressing Jeremy up against the wall, her arm at his throat.

“Quit whining, start talking,” Shaw hissed.

The bag of potato chips had fallen to the floor when Shaw took him by surprise and Root quickly scurried to pick them up. At her loud crunching as she chewed, Shaw shot her a scathing look which she promptly ignored. It was hard to be intimidating with Root acting like this was a picnic at the park.

“Start talking about what?” Jeremy wheezed.

“About Samaritan, you idiot.”

“I already told her,” said Jeremy. “I don’t know anything.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Ask her then.”

Shaw turned to where she thought Root was still behind her, but she had moved to the couch, stretching out to lounge along it with her feet up and completely oblivious to Shaw and Jeremy’s confrontation as she flicked through the TV channels.

“Root,” Shaw snapped and gritted her teeth against the eye roll she received.

Eventually, Root sighed and turned her head slightly to face them. She blinked as if only just realising their positions and munched on another chip.

“Well?” said Shaw. “He claims he knows nothing.”

Root shrugged. “Let’s be real, would _you_ tell _him_ any of your uber secret plans if you were an evil mastermind?”

Shaw took one look at Jeremy - the boyish looks, the pathetic way he cowered, the absolute mess he had allowed his appearance to become - and said firmly, “No.”

“See?” said Root. “He doesn’t know anything.”

Shaw released him, ignoring the scowl of outrage on Jeremy’s face as he straightened his clothes.

“Now what?” Shaw asked, but she had already lost Root’s attention to the TV.

“Um,” said Jeremy hesitantly and cowered at the glare Shaw shot him for having the audacity to speak. “We could order pizza?”

*

Three large pizzas and numerous sides later, Shaw found herself wedged between Jeremy and Root on the couch, the TV switched to some lame Lifetime movie that Root had picked for reasons that were beyond Shaw’s understanding. For once, Shaw was the slow, delicate eater, cringing as the other two devoured their food. Jeremy because he hadn’t eaten properly for days and Root because she was now eating for two.

“So how do you guys actually plan on doing this?”

Licking his fingers clean before taking a fourth slice, Jeremy said, “Well, I figured we just split an even third.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Not the pizza, you moron. The baby.”

“Oh,” said Jeremy and shrugged. It was a better response than what Root gave her. Which was usually none.

“You both do realise that in about five month’s time there’s gonna be a person coming out of her?” She pointed at Root, who suddenly seemed to have lost her appetite and dropped her slice of pizza back into the box. “And it’s not like it’s gonna have a normal life. Not with Samaritan still out there. Have either of you even thought about any of it? Healthcare? Insurance? Schools?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Jeremy announced proudly.

Hope. At last, Shaw thought.

“I think we should name him Jeremy Junior. JJ for short.”

At that, Root abruptly rose to her feet. She muttered something about needing to pee and quickly left the room. Except she was paler than usual, her legs seemed shaky and Shaw thought her morning sickness must be making another unwanted appearance.

“What if it’s a girl?” said Shaw, turning back to her pizza.

“Jemima?” Shaw stared at him and he shrugged. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting her to keep it,” he said in hushed tones, glancing nervously towards the doorway to make sure Root wasn’t on her way back.

Neither was Shaw and she recalled that morning when she had worked everything out, Root’s dazed look and her hope that everything would just go away.

Except it wasn’t going to go away and neither Root nor Jeremy seemed to have realised that yet. This was real. There was a baby coming and _someone_ needed to look after it when it did.

“But, then again,” said Jeremy and grinned in that boyish way of his. “I can’t blame her for wanting to keep a memento of that night.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed. She knew exactly what night he was referring to. “Shut up, Jeremy.”

“She was so eager, you know.” He winked and Shaw felt like punching him in the face, the cocky bastard. Instead she settled for pulverising the pizza slice in her hand.

“Jeremy,” she said. “Enjoy the pizza. It’s going to be the last decent meal you’ll have for a while. Better make it last.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly with his mouth full as Shaw got to her feet and went off in search of Root, finding her at the bottom of the stairs.

“I still think we should just kill him to be on the safe side,” Shaw muttered darkly.

Root shrugged. “Jeremy’s harmless. His former boss, however…”

“Or current one,” said Shaw, lowering her voice in case Jeremy tried to sneak up on them and listen in. “He could be playing us.”

“He’s not,” said Root, although she was frowning now. “He’s terrified. If Samaritan found out about his laptop that led us to you, they’ll kill him.”

“They’re gonna kill him anyway now,” said Shaw. “He’s been gone too long. Oh, but not before several rounds of torture and mind games,” she added bitterly, looking away before she could see the pity in Root’s eyes. It was far too familiar these days and Root was getting worse and worse at hiding it. The others - John, Finch and even Fusco - weren’t any better.

“This is the world you’re bringing a kid into, Root. The middle of a war.”

“Well maybe it won’t come to that,” said Root cryptically. Shaw stared at her for a moment, wondering what she meant. But then Root smiled slightly and shook her head, like she hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

“Speaking of AI wars,” Root went on. “She needs me somewhere.”

“Where?” said Shaw, frowning as she watched Root pull her jacket back on.

“Not sure yet.”

“She’s sending you out on a solo mission in your condition?” said Shaw incredulously, stepping in front of Root before she could reach the front door.

“Condition?” Root frowned in confusion “Oh. You mean the baby? She doesn’t know. The only people who do are in this house.”

“You’re keeping this from the Machine?” said Shaw. For some reason, that sent alarm bells ringing in Shaw’s head more than anything else so far.

“I’ll be fine,” Root muttered and kissed her briefly before rushing out the door.

Except it wasn’t Root that Shaw was concerned about. It was the “problem” that Root kept hoping would go away that had Shaw worried.


	2. Chapter 2

Although not unusual, Shaw didn’t hear from Root for days. But, in Shaw’s mind anyway, things were different now. It wasn’t just Root out there anymore. There was two of them now. Things could go wrong and given Root’s tendency for recklessness if she thought she had no other option, Shaw was worried.

Her worry, after several days, turned into annoyance. And by the time Root made an appearance, Shaw was terse, distant and fussy. Especially when she saw the blood covered clothing, the bruises and scrapes up and down Root’s arms and who knew where else.

“Just a minor explosion,” Root tried to reassure her as Shaw examined her wounds in the dimness of the subway. But at the word “explosion” Shaw stilled in her examinations.

“What do you mean explosion?”

Root only grinned at her. It was unnerving and Shaw found herself scowling as she cleaned up and bandaged the worst of Root’s wounds.

“You need to be more careful,” Shaw scolded as she started clearing away her first aid kit. She had always insisted on the subway – and the library before that – plus their numerous safe houses, being regularly stocked with first aid supplies that would cover a variety of injuries. Safety first and all that. With the war against Samaritan still going strong, that sentiment seemed more important than ever.

“Awh, you worried about me, Sameen?” Root sing-songed, leaning lazily towards Shaw so her mouth was close to Shaw’s ear.

“Not you,” said Shaw and Root stiffened for a moment before moving away.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I’m sure it’s fine. I didn’t get thrown that far and it’s not like –”

At that, Shaw frowned. “I thought you said it was only a small explosion.”

“Well,” said Root, shrugging. “I’ve seen bigger.”

“Root…”

Sighing, Root moved to prop herself up against Harold’s desk. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You could have suffered blunt force trauma to your abdomen,” said Shaw. “ _You_ might be fine, but… You should get your doctor to do an ultrasound just to be safe.” Root frowned and it took Shaw a moment to realise why. “You _do_ have one, right?”

“Um…”

“Root,” Shaw scolded. “You’re almost five months pregnant. There could be complications or –”

“Or what?” said Root like she didn’t care and Shaw knew then that she really didn’t. For a second, she wondered if Root had done it on purpose. If she had gotten caught up in that explosion in the hope that…

“Even if…” Shaw began. “You should get an ultrasound even if you weren’t pregnant.”

As was her usual custom whenever it was directly mentioned, Root looked away, became closed off and attempted to pretend it wasn’t happening. But it was, unfortunately, whether she liked it or not.

“There could be internal bleeding or –”

“Fine,” Root snapped. “If it will shut you up.” She stood up abruptly, storming past Shaw. “You coming or not?”

Shaw gritted her teeth and followed. “Relax, I’ll buy you dinner afterwards.”

“I want steak,” Root announced. “T-bone.”

“Fine,” said Shaw, thinking that, after all, some aspects of Root’s pregnancy weren’t all bad. She had been craving a decent steak all week herself.

*

This wasn’t the first time Shaw had had to break into a hospital for various reasons. One quick stop at a safe house and she had a labcoat, stethoscope and fake ID all to make her look the part. Her only problem was going to be her more than a little reluctant patient.

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Root, get in the damn wheelchair before someone sees us.”

“Why?” Root grumbled, letting out a sigh that sounded more like an angry bear ready to strike its prey. “I can walk.” But she threw herself down onto the wheelchair anyway, folding her arms tightly across her chest with a haughty sigh.

Shaw ignored her, too busy trying to remember where the cameras were and her best route to take to avoid them. The last thing they needed was hospital security getting suspicious or Samaritan detecting them. Not to mention their own AI…

“When are you planning on telling you-know-who, by the way?” Shaw asked. “Or are you waiting on her to figure it out all by herself too?”

Maybe she sounded a little bitter, but right then Shaw didn’t care all that much. She _wanted_ the Machine to find out, to stop sending Root on dangerous missions. To give them an idea of what the hell they were supposed to do in about four month’s time when a living being popped out of Root. Because how long before Samaritan found out, used it against them? But Root only shrugged in response and Shaw figured it was only a matter of time before it all came out. She would start showing soon enough and then it would be obvious to anyone who looked at her.

“Okay, in here,” said Shaw, coming to a stop outside one of the exam rooms in the gynaecology ward. Root made to stand up but Shaw pushed her firmly back down by the shoulder. “You’re still playing patient, remember?” She sensed rather than saw the dirty look Root directed at her. But she could picture it easily enough and knew it wouldn’t be the last time she had the opportunity to see it.

Shaw eased the exam room door open slightly and, once sure it was empty, backed Root inside.

“Get on the bed,” Shaw instructed. At Root’s petulant look she added, “ _Now_ , before I make you put on one of those horrible hospital gowns. Much as I would love to see your ass hanging out…”

“Alright, alright,” Root grumbled and climbed onto the bed, shifting until she was comfortable and staring as Shaw wheeled the ultrasound over. “You know how to use that thing?”

Shaw nodded. “You have any idea how many of these I had to do during my med school rotation?”

“Two hundred and four,” said Root and, at Shaw’s look of surprise, grinned. “I’m kidding.”

She probably wasn’t far off. Still, it was a long time ago and Shaw hesitated slightly before turning the ultrasound on. She decided not to mention the fact that she had been reading up on it just in case. And now she was glad that she had. It was a lot more complicated than she remembered.

“Lift up your shirt.” Shaw rolled her eyes at the suggestive smirk on Root’s face. But, this time, she didn’t pout or protest, lifting her shirt up so Shaw could easily apply the ultrasound gel to her belly. Flinching slightly when it touched her skin, Root muttered something about it being cold and Shaw tried to pretend she didn’t notice all the bruises covering Root’s body. It was almost like Root had injured herself on purpose, no matter how much Shaw wanted to believe otherwise.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” said Shaw. She brought the scanner down onto Root’s gel covered belly and watched as an image formed on the monitor. She could feel Root tense and knew she wanted to be anywhere else but here. Because this made it real. Realer than some blue line on a stick, realer than the morning sickness she could easily explain away as stomach flu or food poisoning or a dozen other things. Being able to see it – this life she had created – made it real, made it hard to pretend it wasn’t happening, that it didn’t exist.

For Shaw, it was the sound of the heartbeat that made it all sink in. Strong and healthy and of course a minor explosion couldn’t stop this little thing. Must take after its mother.

“Is that it?” said Root, sounding unimpressed. But she was staring at the monitor curiously, looking interested for the first time since they had left the subway. “It looks like a bean.”

Shaw frowned, eyes still on the monitor. “It looks like a foetus.”

“That’s gross,” Root muttered and when Shaw glanced at her she was no longer watching the monitor but her instead.

“What?” said Shaw at the look Root gave her, serious and slightly confused.

“You’re smiling.”

Shaw shrugged. She was, she supposed, although she hadn’t noticed when she started. “So?”

“So,” said Root and looked like she wished she hadn’t mentioned it in the first place. “I just… haven’t seen you smile in a while. Not since…” She glanced down at her belly, swallowing thickly.

“Samaritan took me?” Shaw finished and looked back at the ultrasound. There was a way to print the image, but Shaw for the life of her couldn’t remember how to do it. She soon gave up the search, aware that Root’s eyes were watching her carefully. “Everything looks good. Little Bean seems fit and healthy.”

“Little Bean?” said Root. Shaw shrugged and handed her some paper towels to wipe herself clean. She watched Root’s careful movements for a moment, the way she tried to avoid the bruises on her skin, flinching when she missed.

“Well, it’s too early to tell if it’s a boy or a girl yet,” said Shaw. This wasn’t entirely true, but Root didn’t need to know Shaw had tried – and failed – to figure it out. “So I guess it’s a bean until then.”

Root rolled her eyes and pulled her sweater down. “I’m hungry. Can we go now?”

“Not yet,” said Shaw. She pushed Root back onto the creaky hospital bed when she tried to sit up, caught the flash of annoyance in her eyes. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence and Shaw’s plan of attack for dealing with it was to ignore Root’s mood swings completely until they passed. “Pull your sleeve up.”

“Why?” said Root with narrowed eyes. She rolled her sleeve up warily and pulled her arm back almost violently when she saw the needle in Shaw’s hand.

“I just need to take some blood,” Shaw explained quickly, not surprised to discover Root’s aversion to needles. How many had Control stuck in her during her wild rollercoaster ride of a torture session? Shaw had no idea, but she recalled easily the mess Root had been in afterwards as she stumbled her way to safety. Somehow, she had managed to escape, Shaw arriving in the aftermath and taking her to the nearest safe house. It didn’t take her long to figure out what had happened and Shaw really wasn’t surprised by Control’s methods. She was, however, impressed by Control’s willingness to get her hands dirty.

“Why?” Root asked. Her arm was tight against her chest, muscles stiff. Shaw was never going to get blood out of her if she didn’t relax.

“To make sure you’re not anaemic or anything,” said Shaw. She wouldn’t put it past Root to hide if she wasn’t feeling well and who knew how many meals she might have missed while she was away. Best to be on the safe side. “Come on, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

After a few moments of staring blankly at her, Root finally held out her arm. Shaw was careful when she stuck her with the needle. It had been a while, but she found the vein with relative ease and didn’t think Root was too uncomfortable even if she did flinch as the needle struck her skin.

“How are you even going to get this tested?” Root asked. Her eyes were on the needle, almost like a morbid fascination.

“I have my ways.” Shaw smirked and then she was done. Root blinked in surprise like she couldn’t believe it was over already. “Come on, let’s go get that steak.”

*

There was many reasons why Shaw preferred to sleep alone. The first few nights when Root returned from a mission were always guaranteed to remind her why. Root was a restless sleeper, moving constantly to find a comfortable position and jostling Shaw in the process, making it almost impossible for her to fall asleep. Then there was the body heat that radiated from Root like she was a burning furnace, always making the bed, and Shaw, far too hot so she couldn’t sleep. And even with the window open, it couldn’t counteract Root’s tendency to snuggle – and Shaw loathed that word with a passion, but there was no other way to describe it – pressing her body up against Shaw’s as much as possible.

There was a pattern to it, Shaw noticed after a while. Those first few weeks after Shaw escaped Samaritan, Root wasn’t calm, satisfied that Shaw was unharmed, alive and real, unless she was touching Shaw, feeling the warmth of her body, the gentle pulse beneath her skin as her heart beat life through her. Ever since then whenever there was a near miss, involving one or both of them, Root became clingy, needy and not even the hormone imbalance due to her pregnancy could explain it away.

To Shaw, it was tiring at times and she could see the protest on Root’s lips, always unspoken, whenever she went out in the field to go deal with a number.

It wasn’t something that was going to go away anytime soon, this fear and paranoia of Root’s. So Shaw did her best to lessen it; didn’t take risks, always stayed within the blind spots and, those nights when Root needed it the most, Shaw found herself with her arm around Root’s waist, keeping her close. It stilled her restless moving about at least. And ever since Shaw had found out about the baby growing inside her, Shaw’s hand lay across Root’s belly protectively. Her fault, her mess, her responsibility no matter the circumstances and she vowed to protect Bean no matter what.

The name, silly and slightly contemptuous on Root’s part, had stuck. Bean was growing fast, giving his or her mother hell. It was too early for it to start kicking, but the morning sickness had gotten worse rather than eased off, Root peed even more often (waking Shaw up in the middle of the night as she dashed to the bathroom) and the food cravings at ridiculous times had started fairly recently too. As Shaw ruefully remembered when Root prodded her awake one night with a finger in the ribs, hard when Shaw tried to ignore her.

Shaw groaned, blinked at the clock on the nightstand and grunted. “It’s 3am.”

“I’m hungry.”

She would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so tired. “You know where the kitchen is.”

“But I want orange chicken from that place on 8th,” Root whined. “And ice cream. I _need_ ice cream.” She was lying behind Shaw, hand still at Shaw’s side. Shaw could feel her fingers inching beneath her tank top, dancing across her skin when Shaw tried and failed to ignore her.

“Please,” Root whined. “You really don’t want me going out at this time of night in my condition, do you? Think about the bean.”

Shaw scowled. _That_ was becoming a particularly bad habit of Root’s lately too. And Shaw, the fool that she was, always fell for it. Because even though it was three in the morning, she still found herself sighing in resignation. “What flavour of ice cream?”

The grin practically radiated from Root.

“Chocolate chip cookie dough,” said Root, the glee evident in her voice, undeterred and unwavering beneath the weight of Shaw’s scowl as she climbed out of bed and was met with the freezing cold air of the apartment. It was going to be even colder outside. New York in November always was.

“I’ll be back soon,” said Shaw. It fell on deaf ears as Root shrugged back down onto the pillows, pulling the covers over herself as she quickly fell back asleep. Shaw was half tempted to join her, but knew Root would only wake up again soon and start complaining if she did. So she resigned herself to pulling some clothes on as quietly as possible, hoping the streets were clear this time of night. The weather forecast had predicted snow but so far the skies remained dull and clear. It would be just her luck if it started the second she stepped outside.

And of course it was bitterly cold which, coupled with Shaw’s tiredness, left her more grumpy than usual. It took her an hour to find a place open with the flavour of ice cream Root wanted, then she had to suffer the woman behind the counter at the Chinese place as she gave Shaw a bitter, sour look when she walked in two minutes before they closed. She ordered some eggrolls for herself, as well as Root’s orange chicken. Now that she was fully awake, she could feel the hunger burn in her gut.

Snow flurried down from the sky, painting the sidewalk in a white powder. Shaw tightened her coat around her neck and trudged home, cursing everything under her breath. The weather, Root, Lambert who had knocked her up, Bean for keeping Root awake at odd hours, Samaritan for capturing her in the first place. It was the latter’s fault for adding fifteen minutes to her journey as she took side streets to avoid security cameras. The route was familiar to her now, if still somewhat annoying.

This was her life now: hiding in shadows. Unlike the others, she had no secret identity to keep her safe anymore. No longer could she hide in plain sight. She was almost irrelevant, useless and more and more often Finch and Reese were reluctant to employ her aid in saving numbers. She was a burden to them all. Every day, they all wondered when Samaritan would catch up with her again. Shaw could see it in their eyes. Root’s most of all.

At least with Root’s current situation, with little Bean becoming more and more demanding each day despite not even being born yet, Shaw found herself with something to do. She was well aware Root was milking the situation for her own benefit, but Shaw found she didn’t mind all that much.

The snow was falling far more heavily by the time Shaw let herself into the apartment building. Her skin was as cold as ice and flushed red. It would take her hours to warm up, but hopefully Root would be willing to help with that. Shaw smirked as she climbed the stairs, picturing the many varied ways in which Root might achieve that. Shaw was looking forward to it. But when she got back to the apartment, Root was still fast asleep, snoring softly. Not even Shaw whipping off the bedcovers stirred her. She just snuggled up tighter against the pillow that was Shaw’s, so she was lying across the bed at an awkward angle that Shaw couldn’t imagine was comfortable. Except Root looked peaceful enough.

That saying about women glowing during their pregnancy – something Shaw hadn’t really believed before – was definitely the only way Shaw could describe Root now. Her hair splayed out beneath her head like a halo burned golden by the light from the hallway pooling through the ajar bedroom door. The snow, falling in heavier waves now, sent shadows from the window dancing across Root’s face. Shaw hadn’t opened the blinds when she left. Root must have gotten up to do it herself while she was gone, watching the snow fall as she drifted off back to sleep. Root hated the cold, always had as far as Shaw knew, and yet she always seemed fascinated by it. Perhaps growing up in Texas, where the worst weather in winter was heavy rain, had made her yearn for it.

She must have shut the window too and yet the cold couldn’t be kept out completely. Goosebumps formed across Root’s skin. Shaw let her eyes traverse Root’s body. So many times she had dreamt about that body when she was in Samaritan’s thrall. She had dreamt of them all, the familiar faces of the only people she trusted.

Shaw wasn’t sure that trust still existed. With Root, yes; but the others… Reese and Finch… she knew there was still a wariness there, could see it in the way they avoided looking at her, feel it in their hushed, closed off voices whenever she walked into the same room as them.

Now, where before it was familiar, Root’s body was changing right in front of Shaw’s eyes. Not all the changes were unwelcome in Shaw’s opinion. The bigger breasts and enhanced libido wasn’t going to have Shaw complaining anytime soon. But those weren’t the only changes. It was still fairly early in Root’s pregnancy and she was only just beginning to show. Her bump was so small it was barely noticeable. But not to Shaw. By now she knew Root’s body better than her own. Every day she made a mental note of the changes she could see.

“Food’s here.” Shaw leaned across the bed, one hand leaning against the mattress for support; the other, almost absentminded in its gentleness, cupped Root’s ever growing belly as she muttered in Root’s ear. Finally, she stirred, groaning at the world.

“Bring it to me,” Root mumbled, one hand stretched out in search of the covers.

Shaw frowned. In her opinion, the bed was designed for two things only: sleep and sex. Of course Root, on more than one occasion, had managed to mix food and sex together in interesting ways. But, considering it was well past four in the morning, Shaw doubted sex would be on the agenda. Maybe in a couple of hours, Shaw thought with a smirk.

“No,” said Shaw and gripped the covers before Root could fully pull them over her head again. “Get up.”

Root groaned again and Shaw knew there was no way she was getting out of bed anytime soon. She had seen Root in this kind of sleepy mood far too many times before to have any hope of that.

“Fine,” Shaw grumbled, scowling at the grin on Root’s face when she sat up. Shaw handed her the box of orange chicken and a set of chopsticks, watching for a moment as Root dug in, wolfing down a piece of chicken like she hadn’t eaten for weeks.

“Where are you going?” Root mumbled around a mouthful of food when Shaw stepped towards the door.

“Uh,” said Shaw. “To put the ice cream in the freezer.” The apartment was cold, but not _that_ cold.

“Nuh-uh, give it here.” Root reached out a hand, wriggling her fingers impatiently until Shaw handed the tub over.

“You’re not seriously going to…” Shaw began and watched with disgust as Root used one of the chopsticks to scoop out a lump of ice cream and dump it right on top of her orange chicken. Having already begun to melt, it slid out easily enough and mixed with the orange sauce, creating a creamy peachy coloured mixture that didn’t look in any way edible to Shaw. “That is so gross.”

Root merely shrugged, grinning before she popped a piece of ice cream covered chicken into her mouth.

With her nose crinkling in disgust, Shaw sat on the edge of the bed by Root’s feet. She opened the last box of takeout and shove an eggroll into her mouth. She chewed roughly, still grossed out by Root’s improvised food preparation. She wondered if the kid would have weird eating habits too. Then again, Root’s pre-pregnancy appetite of a sparrow where she spent hours nibbling at her food was bizarre in Shaw’s eyes anyway.

_Should have gotten some chili sauce_ , Shaw thought as she chewed and swallowed down the last of her eggroll. She didn’t dare get up to fetch something from the kitchen in case Root tried to offer her some of her own concoction.

“How can you eat that?” Shaw asked, watching dumbfounded as Root continued to shove food into her mouth.

“It’s actually really good,” said Root. “Wanna try some?” Root held out her takeout carton. Shaw grimaced at the gesture and told Root maybe another time. Preferably, someone else would be doing the fetching and carrying next time. Someone like Jeremy, perhaps, considering he was the father. But all he had contributed so far to this pregnancy was unwanted comments and over-exaggerated leers sent in Root’s direction, apparently unable to contain himself. Shaw was rather impressed by her own self-control at not pummelling him with her fists in response. Not that she had seen him very often since that first visit to the safe house, but _someone_ had to go make sure he was still breathing, even if Shaw still wasn’t certain why that had to be a necessity. Every day Lambert was becoming more and more of a hindrance rather than a help. She suspected it was only a matter of time before Samaritan tracked him down. Or Jeremy himself led it right to them.

“When are you going to tell people?” The question was out of Shaw’s mouth before she could stop herself. Beside her, Root flinched and dropped the piece of chicken that had been on its way into her mouth back into the takeout carton. “It’s just… you can’t exactly hide it much longer. Finch and Reese are going to notice. And we need to figure out what to do with Lambert. I vote leaving him where he is to starve,” Shaw added in a lame attempt to lighten the conversation. It failed. Root’s look had turned from evasive annoyance to downright anger the more Shaw continued to talk.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” said Root and slammed her takeout carton onto the bedside table before climbing out of the bed in a tangle of sheets.

“Bean’s going to be here sooner rather than later and you can’t –”

“Stop calling it Bean,” Root snapped. The bedroom door slamming shut on her way out put an end to the conversation.

Shaw sighed and shoved another eggroll into her mouth. It looked like she would be sleeping alone again sooner than she thought.


End file.
